


alright, okay

by Melesmeles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attack, Self-Harm, set mid-to-late season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melesmeles/pseuds/Melesmeles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because werewolves do it doesn't mean it's a healthy coping mechanism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alright, okay

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of exposition for a story dealing with Stiles self-harming that I keep trying to write, half because I think it's an interesting story and half as therapy. I'm posting this in the hopes that it will inspire me to write more.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: Because this ficlet is from Stiles' point of view, it is not disussed that what Stiles is doing is supermegaselfdestructive and not a good idea. Let this be clear: NOT A GOOD CHOICE. I am so so so so so not condoning this.
> 
> Part of the reason I've been writing in stops and starts and been nervous about posting is that a good deal of what I've written is Stiles justifying his behavior to himself by talking about how much it helps (it's subverted later, but still), and I really don't want to be responsible for someone starting to self-harm because of what I've written.

The first time he does it, Stiles has just gotten home from school - or, really, gotten home from being loomed at by Derek and threatened by Jackson and once again watching Scott fuck himself over with Allison and really, it's amazing to think how much he used to agonize over school when now it's so incidental. But now he's home, in his room, and his dad won't be back until late - which is good, because he wants to actually spend some time with his dad for once.

He's got six hours to himself to start researching the new supernatural thing that is terrorizing the town, and also practice lacrosse in the vague hopes of not embarrassing himself too much during practice, and also make dinner so his dad won't be tempted to go out for fast food and also text Scott and make sure everything's okay with him because best friend duties are important duties especially when your best friend's a werewolf and also do his fucking homework because even though school is so not priority right now he can't start failing because he knows how much that would hurt his dad and he's hurt his dad enough lately and if he can't stop lying to him, can't stop putting him in danger just by being someone Stiles is close to, the least he can fucking do is write a few goddamn essays and keep his grades up but there's no time because if he doesn't research the Alpha, people could die, will die and research is what he can do because he is weak and powerless and can't fight and oh God he's shaking and he can't breathe and goddamnit he hasn't had a panic attack in years he thought he had these under control but apparently that doesn't matter because he knows the signs, knows in a moment he'll be curled up, gasping, feeling like he's dying, his heart beating so fast it'll feel like it's going to break out of his chest, and goddamnit goddamnit goddamnit he doesn't have time for this, he doesn't have the time to spend freaking out, he needs to stop this but he's still gasping and he can't and he just wants to be in control of his own goddamn body - and suddenly he remembers what Scott told him Derek said about control, about how pain keeps you human, and he thinks, if pain can keep a bloodthirsty killing machine from attacking, it can totally handle a measly little panic attack, and before he really even knows what he's doing, he's slamming his fist onto his desk. 

And it helps.

It's not enough - his mind is still circling faster than he can stand - but it helps, it slows everything, so he grabs the novelty paperweight he has on his desk and slams it down onto his thigh - and, FUCK, that hurts! For a moment all he can think about is the pain, but soon it's fading from sharp to throbbing, and he can breathe. His thoughts are slowing.

He's okay.

He puts the paperweight back on the desk and experimentally pokes at his leg. It twinges, and he knows it's going to bruise, and bruise badly. Thank fuck for lacrosse, he thinks, because it won't even be difficult to explain this away if his dad notices. He breathes again, deeply, and he's jittery - can feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, which seems almost silly to him now - that even after all the shit he's seen, something as simple as hitting himself can still produce that physiological response. 

But with the jitters comes focus. He thinks about everything he needs to do, but it all feels further away now. He sits down at his desk, opens his computer, grabs his Adderall, and settles in. He'll research until eight, punctuated with breaks to text Scott and fuck around on the Internet because even with the Adderall his attention span isn't the best. Then he'll make dinner, and when his dad gets back they'll eat, and after, he can do homework while his dad works on cases. Barring unplanned supernatural bullshit, It'll be a good night.

His thigh twinges and he thinks, I've got this.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know more about the actual story, say so in a comment and I would be happy to blather at you! It's shaping up to be a hurt/comfort action/adventure piece with lots of reasonable discussions about trauma and mental health.


End file.
